


Phoenix Rising

by moonrunes



Category: MacGyver (TV 2016), Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Gen, More tags to be added, Physical Disability, The Drift (Pacific Rim), Thornton is Not a Traitor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-03
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2018-10-27 19:20:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10815126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonrunes/pseuds/moonrunes
Summary: Macgyver/Pacific Rim AU. For @powerfultenderness on Tumblr. Updating is spotty at best.





	1. K-Day

He was fifteen when the first Kaiju came through the Breach.

Northern California was chaos as people prepared, planned, and prayed that the Kaiju wouldn’t come north. His grandfather spoke even less than normal - when reports started coming in about the Kaiju being on the move, he silently herded his grandson, his grandson’s friend and his family, and a few other “family friends” into the basement, where they huddled together in fear.

After a few hours of this (watching news reports on the small television, building card towers and paperclip models, playing fetch with Archimedes) the fear started to go away, and by the end of it (six days, three cities, thirty-five miles, one nuclear missile, and one dead Kaiju later) it seemed like no big deal at all. One week - after all, what was that in the grand scheme of things?

The world grieved for the lives lost.

The world remembered.

And the world moved on.

And then, only six months later, the next one hit Manilla. This one didn’t bring memories of the basement - rather, he remembered sitting next to his best friend on the couch, watching it on TV, scratching Archimedes’ ears. According to his grandfather, he’d always been an empathetic kid (“able to feel what others are feeling, able to help them with their problems”), but now, that trait turned against him as he watched a monster destroy a city and felt pain stab through his chest, for all the people there and for all their relatives watching.

Then the third one hit Cabo.

Then the fourth hit Sydney.

The world came to the realization that this wasn’t going to stop. It wasn’t going to end, it wasn’t going to change. Whatever they did, there was no way to stop it short of nuking it and killing people in the process.

His grandfather stopped him from joining the protests (sneaking out or otherwise), but some of his other friends went, challenging the government to stop this, to rise up and take a shot.

On the day of his driver’s test, he passed the first billboard for the Pan Pacific Defense Corps that he’d seen (“Together, we can end this war!”). His grandfather told him that many would look to the crest of the Corps for a symbol of hope, but that it would be best to wait it out, to see what would happen.

Against all odds, it worked.

Humanity started winning.

Jaegers, the weapon of the world, started beating Kaiju everywhere. He and his best friend hunted down every video file they could find of the battles, watching them and noting the different fighting styles, the different types of Kaiju.

Bozer wanted to be a scientist, wanted to study the monsters. As soon as he could, he went out and got himself sleeve tattoos of different Kaiju, from Kalceph to Yamarashi. When Mac’s grandfather saw, he shook his head with a huff of laughter, so both boys took that to be a symbol of respect.

Probably.

As soon as they graduated high school, both of them enrolled in the Jaeger Academy up in Alaska - Bozer set on being a scientist, Mac himself wanting to be a pilot.

It was hard, backbreaking work - the trainers were intent on breaking spirits, and both boys watched many new friends head home before the first cut was even announced. Mac bent paperclips into new shapes (a sword, a claw, a tiny metal monster), fought in the Kwoon, and studied different terms (“Mac, that’s a hanbo. You can’t keep calling it a stick.”). Bozer dissected the parts sent from the kills on the Rim and sent letters to someplace in Canada (“his scientific pen pal,” he’d informed Mac loftily, eliciting a snort from his oldest and greatest friend).

The day came when all recruits were to be tested for Drift Compatibility - or, a day full of brain scans and psych evaluations. The mock-pod simulator was just to see if they could actually handle being tossed around.

When he’d come back to the dorm he shared with Bozer, his best friend asked him, “How’d it go?”

Mac groaned. “Well, it went really well, except the part where apparently I’m not Drift Compatible with anyone in my class.”

Bozer sat up straight. “Wait, what? I thought you were one of the best students there.”

“Being a good student doesn’t mean I’m a good partner.” Mac collapsed onto the couch, burying his face in his hands. “Ugh. I dunno.”

Bozer sat next him, twisting his hands in his lap. What do I do?

Mac sighed. “Maybe I’ll never be a Ranger. Maybe this was all for nothing.”

“Hey.” Bozer hit him on the shoulder. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?” Mac dropped his hands, giving Bozer a look that wouldn’t look completely out of place on a very small puppy that had recently been kicked.

“Stop thinking like that,” Bozer told him sternly. “Even if you’re not a pilot, so what? Your gramps would still be proud if you decided to be a K-Science tech or somethin’. And just ‘cause you’re not compatible with anyone at this base doesn’t mean that you’re not compatible with anyone. Plus, you’re you. If anyone can do this, it’s you.”

Mac was silent for a moment, and Bozer feared briefly that his pep talk wasn’t working before Mac gave him a sun-bright smile.

“Thanks, Boze. I’m not sure all that is true, but thanks for your confidence in me anyways.”

Bozer bounced on the couch excitedly. “That’s why I’m here, man! And did I tell you what the email from Riley said?”

Mac laughed, leaning back into the couch cushions, content to hear his best friend ramble about his “scientific pen pal” and the giant definitely-not-a-crush he had on them.

“Yeah, so they say that they wanna meet up soon! Discuss science 'n all that! Whaddya think?”

“Um, I think that you should take someone with you, just in case they’re like, a seven-foot tall serial killer,” Mac advised, and Bozer scoffed.

“A seven-foot tall serial killer who went to the trouble of learning that much science? I don’t think so.”

Mac shrugged. “Still.”  
“Do you want to come?”

“Me?”

“Well, yeah.” Bozer raised an eyebrow at Mac. “If I got a Ranger with me, then nobody’s gonna mess around with me.”

“I dunno.”

“It’ll be fun!” Bozer slapped him on the shoulder again. “After graduation, alright?”

“Okay.”


	2. Fightmaster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Fightmaster has a proposition. Graduation approaches steadily. The chapters are getting shorter?

One week before graduation.

The teachers cracked down hard, even though the final exams were done and settled. They said that this last week would determine where they'd get assigned - to LOCCENT mission control centers in various Shatterdomes, to so-called "grunt work" in the inland cities (further calculations, experimenting with Kaiju remains, developing new technologies), Jumphawk piloting on the Rim, and for the chosen pilots, the last week determined where they would be in the wait for a Jaeger - the best got sent out first, and the worst might not get sent out at all. Though both Mac and Bozer heard people express desire to remain inland, the majority of the cadets that they interacted with wanted to be on the Rim. As close to the eye of the hurricane as they could get. Close to the action, as one cadet put it.

Training days with the Fightmaster could last up to fourteen hours a day, but for Mac, that was not at the forefront of his mind - rather, he spent every waking moment (when he wasn't being attacked by a mean-spirited classmate, an irate teacher, or the Fightmaster himself) worrying about what, exactly, his lack of Drift Compatibility would mean.

He stepped off the mat, shaking hair out of his eyes and leaning against the wall, watching his classmates try to take on the Fightmaster. He didn't know any of them very well, but he knew them well enough to know that the Fightmaster must not be feeling great - he could have taken them all down several moves earlier than he did.

Or maybe he just wanted to teach 'em a lesson. Who knew.

The lesson ended, the bell rang, and everyone left their sticks (after nearly twenty-four weeks here, Mac couldn't remember what they were called for the life of him) in the racks and headed out to lunch, talking quietly amongst themselves.

He followed at a more sedate pace, only stopping when he heard his name.

"Yeah?"

The Fightmaster still stood in the middle of the room, leaning against his stick. "You up for a bit of last-minute practice? I notice you're having a bit of trouble today."

Mac shrugged, picking up his stick. "I was...distracted. Graduation next week, 'n all."

"That's no excuse."

"Yeah, I know."

The Fightmaster took a few swipes and Mac blocked them easily, retaliating with a few attacks of his own.

"You found yourself a Drift partner yet?"

"Not yet." Mac slipped up and the world spun as the Fightmaster threw him to the ground.

"And that distracts you."

"Only a little."

"Only a little is all it takes."

They clashed yet again, all the Fightmaster's lag from previous fights gone as he spun his stick around, mimicking Mac's own movements.

"Listen, Macgyver, if you wanna be a pilot, you gotta focus." The Fightmaster whacked him on the leg, hard, and Mac gritted his teeth.

"Weren't you a pilot, sir?" he asked, and was rewarded with a slip in the otherwise immaculate defense of the Fightmaster, a hole that was exploited immediately and gave Mac his first real hit.

"I was."

"What happened? If you don't mind me asking, sir." The Fightmaster held up a hand, stopping Mac's attacks, and stepped off the mat, gesturing for Mac to follow him.

"My wife was my partner, and we piloted a Mark 1. Then, you know, younger pilots started coming in, and then they were talking about radiation sickness…"

Mac nodded in understanding. Everyone had heard about the radiation sickness.

"We were never sick, but we retired anyways. Didn't wanna risk getting it and dying."

"Or, y'know, dying via Kaiju," Mac joked, and the Fightmaster turned and stared at him.

Was that the wrong thing to say?

The Fightmaster laughed.

"Or that."  
They picked up their shoes, leaving the staves in the rack and walking in bare feet towards the dining hall. "They've been bothering me about getting back in the cockpit recently, though."

"Are you going to?" Mac couldn't imagine saying no - if he was good enough at fighting to train cadets, he would be amazing in an actual Jaeger.

"Maybe," he answered. "But my wife is two months pregnant, so she can't copilot with me."

"Oh." Mac's brain scrambled to give him a polite answer, but he could come up with nothing better than "Congratulations."

The Fightmaster barked a laugh. "I'd like to be out fighting, so that I can ensure a better future for my kid. But I got nobody to pilot with."

"Really?"

"Really."

They walked along for a bit longer in silence, and as the hall broke into two sections, the Fightmaster turned to him, smiling.   
"Hey, kid."

"Hm?"

"What do you think about being my copilot?" Before Mac could answer, the Fightmaster held up a hand. "You don't need to answer right now. You just gotta think about it, think about the bigger picture. But if you wanna go through the tests one more time, then I'd like to try."

Mac closed his mouth and nodded, smiling, and the Fightmaster smiled back. "Can I let you in on a secret, Mac?"  
"Sure."

"You're one of the best students I've ever had, and it would be a loss for the world if you weren't out there. It's pilots like you that give humanity the best chance for survival, okay? So I don't wanna influence your decision in any way, because it's yours to make, but I do think you should at least try, alright?"

"Yes, sir." Mac nodded, still smiling, and looked at the ground as the Fightmaster clapped him on the back.   
"Good. Come see me tomorrow with your decision, okay?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Mac watched the Fightmaster walk away and smiled.

Wait 'til Bozer hears about this!


	3. Enterprising Young Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, the chapters are defiantly getting shorter. But Bozer confronts his best friend about the possibilities of engaging with Kaiju. A heart-to-heart is held. Chapter Title from the Star Trek (2009) soundtrack.

"You're what?"  
"Might." Mac threw a couch pillow at Bozer, who mindlessly batted it away.   
"Stop throwin' my mom's pillows at me. But seriously, the Fightmaster asked you to be his copilot?"  
"Yeah."  
"Dude." Bozer high-fived him enthusiastically, but Mac caught a thread of worry behind his eyes.   
"Bozer. What's up?"  
"I dunno." He collapsed on the couch next to Mac and rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand. "I just - I get some cushy lab job analyzing brains and parasites and you're out there, doing - fightin' monsters and I - I worry, man, you know that."  
"I know."   
"And - I dunno, maybe this is just me, but what if you die? Man, I don't think anyone wants to deal with that-"  
"Bozer." Mac faced him and threw another cushion at him. "I'm not gonna die. I've got training and weapons and the Fightmaster with me. I've got this."  
"Okay."  
"Plus, I'm not gonna leave you without paying rent." Mac grinned. "'Cause you know there's never going to be another roommate like me!"  
Bozer snorted. "You? Mac, you snore and you wake up in the middle of the night to snack and you drink milk straight from the carton and-and you don't cut your meat into small enough pieces! You're gonna choke on that someday!"  
"Yeah, probably," Mac chuckled. "Worth it, though."  
"Hmph." Bozer got up and made his way towards the kitchen, muttering about magical with rations and Mac, if you appreciated my cooking, you wouldn't eat like a savage and Mac himself stretched and smiled again, looking at the ceiling.   
"Hey, Boze?"  
"Yeah, Mac?"  
"Do you remember what those sticks are called - the ones in the Kwoon?"  
Bozer appeared at the kitchen doorway, sighing. "Hanbo staffs. Mac, we went over this-"  
"Staves."  
"Staves, staffs, whatever." Bozer waved a spoon in his direction and disappeared, saluting Mac as he went.   
"Thanks."  
"No problem."


	4. Anxiety Avenue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short update, longer one coming soon.

One week later.  
Day of the Drift Compatibility test.  
Also the day of graduation (though it would take place in the evening, for full dramatic effect as the sun went down). Both boys had spent most of the previous night finding and cleaning their military dress blues - even though the Jaeger Academy wasn't an official military school, they were still expected to show up in "formal dress," as per the code that had been mailed to them at the beginning of their enrollment and again a week prior.   
The apartment had also been deep-cleaned, revealing a floor for the first time in several weeks. Bozer had done his roommate the courtesy of cleaning the fridge, separating the Kaiju parts and the actual food into different drawers and jars, all neatly marked. For his part, Mac cleaned his desk, finding a truly surprising number of paperclips (both bent and untouched) and a less surprising amount of pencils and lost notes.  
The morning dawned clear and bright, fluffy clouds chasing each other across the sky as the sun shone through the window, directly into Mac's eyes.   
"Ugh."  
Pulling a pillow over his head only helped so much, as it cut off the light but also fresh air, and after a few moments, Mac gave up and shambled to the kitchen, rubbing sleep out of his eyes and yawning. Bozer had been up later than he - his best friend was passed out on the couch, cuddling another pillow, his face pressed so hard into it that Mac worried that he'd be at graduation with lines down his face.   
The fridge yielded nothing that Mac found edible, as most of it had been cleared out the night before, so Mac found a half-empty jug of milk that was still good and took a bowl of cereal back to his room - the clinking of the spoon against the bowl might wake Bozer.  
The apartment that they were renting was pretty small - each of the rooms was barely long enough to pace back in forth if one was working on a hard problem and the bed was squeezed in the corner (which created cracks between the wall and the mattress that had eaten many a good pencil), but the windows looked out onto a field and he could sit by the windows whenever there was a thunderstorm, so there was a certain fondness for the place.  
The full gravity of the situation at hand slammed into him, and he leaned his head back against the wall and groaned quietly, the sun shining through his eyelids and making him see red.  
What was he doing? Drifting with the Fightmaster - no, no, there was no way that they'd be compatible, he shouldn't get his hopes up, working in the K-Science labs were always a possibility…  
Mac opened his eyes and poked at his cereal. Anxiety about today would only make the Drift worse, he knew - the teachers had drilled that in. Emotions could make it stronger, but could also rip the entire thing apart.  
Plus, he's an experienced fighter and Drifter, argued the logical side of his brain. If anything goes wrong, there are attendants there to shut it all down. It'll be fine.  
Mac took another spoonful of soggy cereal (oops, too long down Anxiety Avenue). Hopefully.


	5. Test Run

The practice Drivesuit was slightly heavier than the real thing, Mac knew - why, he couldn't remember, mostly due to the fact that his brain was a swirling mess of worry, fear, with a tiny spark of hope. Which was pretty normal, except for the fact that he was not walking into an exam, he was walking into the future - his future, hopefully.  
Their practice Conn-Pod was connected to a retired Jaeger named Sequoia Paladin - an almost poetic name. Unusual for a Jaeger.   
(Mac remembered an incident from a few years ago, in which the name of a new Jaeger had been put to the public. The name that received the most votes had been Robot McRobotFace.  
The PPDC had named it Ironclad Cobra instead.)   
(Killjoys.)  
Not the time to be thinking about that. What do I do? The techs retreated into the back rooms and one of the senior J-Tech officers led him to the bridge, where he got his first look at Sequoia Paladin.  
Sequoia Paladin's body was far below, leaving only the Conn-Pod itself, rigged up for simulations and Drift tests. Thick cords looped around it, plugging into ports and creating the appearance of black spiderwebs. It hung between the iron girders, hulking and huge, and the worm of fear in Mac's stomach grew larger as he imagined the entire thing plummeting down without the straps holding him in place.  
As Mac crossed the bridge, resolutely not looking down through the gaps in the metal, he wondered where the Fightmaster was. Five minutes to start time, and he was nowhere to be found - was this a misinterpreted joke? Was he sick? Too busy? Forgot?  
The door opened, and he stepped through to find the Fightmaster already there, strapped into the rig and waiting patiently as the crew tightened the bolts.   
"I'll take the right hemisphere, if you don't mind, Mac," he said, without turning. Mac wondered if he was joking (he was already on the right side. Why would he ask if he minded?).  
"I don't mind, sir."  
He nodded, looking back. "no more of that 'sir' buisness, Mac. I'll be in your head in a few minutes - plus, I think you're old enough to call me by my name."  
Mac laughed nervously, slotting his boots into the clamps and feeling the rig tighten around him. "It's a tough habit to break."  
"Maybe."   
A warning flashed across the visor, and Mac had about ten seconds to brace himself before the head of the Jaeger fell, a feeling of weightlessness that only lasted so long as the head connected to the rest of Sequoia Paladin.  
A voice echoed in the space around them, warning that the simulation would begin in thirty seconds, and the Fightmaster grinned at Mac. "Ready to be inside my head, Mac?"  
The real answer to that was no, but Mac nodded anyways.  
"Initiating Neural Handshake in five, four, three, two…"  
Mac closed his eyes and took a deep breath, hearing it echo inside his helmet.   
Here we go.  
"One. Neural Handshake initiated, Marshal."  
Both pilots gasped, rocking backwards into the machine as they reacted to each other's memories. Mac caught flashes of gold and blue, his memories and Pena's mixing together until the sensations were the only thing he caught.  
Salt air   
The sea   
The hospital   
Military   
A wedding   
Happiness   
Bozer  
Arlene  
Fetch with Archimedes   
Fighting a Kaiju   
Watching the news   
The Marshal's in my ear   
Another Jaeger on the left   
The Kwoon students   
Fighting   
Studying   
Remembering.  
"Neural Handshake firm and holding, Marshal."  
"Good."  
The pilots moved their arms in sync, and Sequoia Paladin responded, two enormous arms raising up to form a basic block move.  
Incredible.   
Mac felt the amusement from the Fightmaster - Pena - before a thought drifted across his mind.  
I know.  
They laughed out loud, slamming their fists together with an earth-shattering boom. Exhilaration made Mac's head spin, and beside him, Pena cautioned, Careful, Mac. Don't step over the limits of what we're supposed to do.  
Is it that easy?  
Always.  
Up in the glass box, the Marshal nodded. "End the test," she instructed. "We don't want them to be late to the ceremony."  
"And after that?" asked one of the techs. "We're giving out Shatterdome assignments after this. Where do you want them?"  
"Anchorage, Alaska." The Marshal took a small pill out of a box and swallowed it. "I want them piloting the new one. Echo Hunter."  
"Yes, ma'am."   
Inside the Conn-Pod, the session ended, leaving both pilots with the dizzy feeling attained only by those who willingly jumped off cliffs.  
It was only after the Drivesuits came off and they were in the hallway that Mac leaned against the wall and let out a whoof. "Wow."  
Pena laughed. "Yup. The first Drift is always the one you remember."  
"Mhm."  
Pena laughed, clapping Mac on the back. "nice going, Macgyver. See you at the ceremony tonight."  
"Yeah, see you," echoed Mac, and watched his Drift partner walk away.


	6. Miracle Mile

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update, but I don't keep up with this show a lot anymore. I've written a little bit more, but it's unlikely that I'll finish it. Thanks to all those who commented (I love you) and sorry for not finishing!

ANCHORAGE, ALASKA  
Echo Hunter was brand new, worked like a dream. Even though Bozer was somewhere in California and his grandfather had been moved inland (much to his dismay), Mac thought he'd never been happier.  
Four Kaiju were dead and gone - unable to hurt the people of the world because of him, and he thought sometimes of the first PPDC billboard he'd seen - together, we can end this war!  
Yes. Yes, this war was ending.  
The fifth deployment alert came at an unholy hour in the morning - Mac didn't even bother checking the time as he rolled out of bed (sticking the landing pretty well for being on the top bunk) and shook Pena awake, babbling something about codenames and fifth notch on the belt. Mac's grandfather had always said that Mac had a talent to be awake and alert immediately after waking up.   
His partner, on the other hand, would be lucky if he was awake before the Kaiju was dead - he was still yawning as their Drivesuits were screwed into place (the gel dispensing through the suit, making Mac shiver) and the rigs attached in the Conn-Pod.  
"Good morning, boys." A voice crackled through the speakers - Sarah Adler, LOCCENT officer (or commander? She'd joked about being a commander once, but Mac still wasn't sure how serious she'd been).   
"Sarah, good morning." Pena yawned again and Mac grinned.   
"How was your date last night, Miss Adler?"  
"Oh, she loved me," replied Sarah. "Seemed a bit put off by the leg, but hey, what're you going to do about that?"  
The two pilots chuckled with her, but her laugh was cut off by another voice - "Engage drop, Miss Adler."  
"Yes, ma'am. Marshal Thornton, on deck."  
Mac couldn't see the Marshal from his place in the Conn-Pod, but he could imagine her - standing tall in her military uniform, staring out at Echo Hunter with an expression halfway between stern and proud that always made him wonder where he stood, so to speak.  
"Secure the Conn-Pod, gettin' ready for the drop."   
"Conn-Pod door lock secure," called the teams on the outside, and he could practically hear Sarah grin.  
"Ready for the drop?"  
"We are," replied Pena, and Mac whooped. "Let's do this!"  
"Alright. Echo, get ready for the big drop. Hopefully this will be the most shocking thing that happens to you this morning.”  
The drop still made Mac's stomach churn, the sparks from the grips outside flashing in the corners of his eyes, but as the Conn-Pod settled into the housing his feelings of motion sickness were quickly replaced by anticipation as he felt the Jaeger moving forward, the trucks and helicopters pulling it out into the rain.  
"Coupling confirmed, ma'am." Mac could hear the clicking of Sarah's fingers against the keyboard as the Marshal ordered, "Engage pilot-to-pilot protocol."  
"Engaging now."  
"Pilot-to-pilot connection protocol sequence," reported the cool voice of the AI, and the visor shuttered closed as it loaded.  
Echo Hunter whirred, like she was waking up with them, and Mac felt a surge of affection for her, she who had seen them through four Kaiju and had kept them alive through each one. The floor vibrated as the crews started up the core - her heart, some called it.  
"Echo Hunter, ready and aligned, ma'am," Pena said, tapping buttons on the console.   
"Rangers, this is Marshal Patricia Thornton. Prepare for neural Handshake."  
"Starting in fifteen seconds," Sarah added. "Fourteen. Thirteen. Twelve."  
"Ready, Mac?" Pena asked.  
"Please, after you." Mac grinned at his mentor. "Age before beauty."  
The AI was saying something, but Mac didn't hear it as he closed his eyes and prepared for the Handshake.  
"Neural Handshake initiate."  
The memories came in flashes, twisting around Pena’s until he heard voices unconnected to faces in his memories.  
The Shatterdome  
Archimedies  
letters from Bozer  
letters from Frankie  
Grandfather?  
We’ll name her Annabelle.  
"Neural Handshake, strong and holding," Sarah reported.  
"Right hemisphere, calibrating." Pena lifted his right arm and Mac moved in sync, Echo Hunter responding as she always did.  
"Left hemisphere, calibrating." Mac lifted his left and slammed the left fist into Echo Hunter's open palm with an earth-shattering blam.  
"Gentleman, your orders are to hold the Miracle Mile off Anchorage. The Kaiju is a Category 3, codenamed Ghoster, just in case you did not listen earlier. Do you copy?"  
"We copy, ma'am," Pena replied.   
"Ma'am, there's still a civilian vessel in the gulf," Mac objected, but the Marshal cut him off. "You're protecting a city of two million people, Ranger, you will not risk those lives for a boat that holds ten, do you understand?"  
"Yes, ma'am." Pena hit his com and sighed.  
Mac grunted, hitting his own com and looking over at Pena. “That doesn’t seem right. What do you think?”  
Pena laughed. “What do I think? I’m thinking the same thing you are.”  
"Then let's go fishing."


End file.
